Nauthiz’s hands twitched at his sides, his body tense as Constantine leaned in, their faces inches apart. The ghost’s breath was cold against his lips, sending a shiver through him. “You don’t belong here,” Nauthiz said, his voice strained.

“And yet, here I am,” Constantine replied before closing the distance between them.

The kiss was cold and electric, a clash of sensations that sent a jolt through Nauthiz’s body. The monster froze, his breath hitching as Constantine pressed against him, his spectral form solidifying in ways that defied the laws of the living world.

For a moment, Nauthiz let himself lean into it, his hands rising to grip Constantine’s shoulders, the sensation both alien and familiar. The coldness of Constantine’s form burned against his skin, a stark contrast to the fire that flared within him.

But then he pulled back sharply, his glowing eyes wide. “This isn’t real,” he said, his voice trembling with something he couldn’t name.

Constantine’s smile was sad but unwavering. “It feels real enough, doesn’t it?”

Nauthiz said nothing, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts.

Constantine's spectral form grew more solid as his lips pressed against Nauthiz’s again, a ghostly hunger radiating from his touch. His cold hands trailed lower, brushing over Nauthiz’s waist, his fingers grazing the place where illusion and reality intertwined. Nauthiz shuddered under the weight of the sensation, his glowing eyes closing for the briefest moment as he let himself lean into the touch.

“You’ve hidden for so long,” Constantine murmured against his lips, his voice both a plea and a demand. “But I’ve seen you—both of you. I loved you as Nauthizia, and I want you as Nauthiz. You are everything I’ve ever desired, and I cannot stop wanting you.”

Constantine’s words were a match to the fire burning in Nauthiz’s veins, and for a moment, he let the facade drop. His hands grasped Constantine’s waist, pulling him closer as their bodies collided, the cold of Constantine’s spectral form merging with the heat of Dracula’s unnatural vitality.

“Constantine…” Nauthiz’s voice was raw, barely a whisper, and laced with both longing and hesitation.

But the moment shattered like glass as a sharp slap rang through the room.

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Constantine stumbled back, his ghostly form flickering for a moment as his cheek bore the imprint of an ethereal hand. He stared at Nauthiz, stunned, but the glowing eyes before him no longer belonged to the man he had been kissing. The sharp, fierce gaze of Nauthizia cut through the air like a blade.

“Enough!” she snarled, her voice reverberating through the chamber with a ferocity that could have torn stone from the walls. “You think you can distract me? That you can replace what’s been taken from me with your games and your lust?”

Constantine straightened, his ghostly form solidifying once more. His eyes, previously filled with desire, darkened with something more pragmatic. “I’m not trying to replace anything,” he said calmly. “I’m trying to save what’s left of you.”

“Save?” Nauthizia spat, her fists clenching at her sides. “Where were you when they took Vlad? Where was this devotion when our son was ripped from my arms? You stood there and watched him taken, and now you come back, whispering lies to a part of me that isn’t even whole!”

Constantine flinched, the words striking deeper than any blade. For a long moment, he said nothing, his spectral form trembling faintly as he took in the fury of the woman he had once called his wife. When he finally spoke, his voice was steady but laced with sorrow.

“I couldn’t save him,” he said simply. “I wanted to. I would have torn the world apart for him, but I couldn’t.” He stepped forward, his gaze meeting hers with an intensity that matched her own. “And now, I can’t save you either—not unless you let me.”

Nauthizia’s glowing eyes narrowed, but there was a flicker of something else beneath her anger—pain, raw and unyielding. “You’re playing both sides, Constantine,” she hissed. “You’re seducing a specter.”

Constantine’s lips curled into a faint, humorless smile. “Perhaps I am,” he said, his tone soft but unrepentant. “But you’re wrong if you think I’ve forgotten you, Nauthizia. You are still my queen, my wife, my… everything.”

His gaze softened, the weight of his emotions evident in every word. “But Nauthiz is you, too. The part of you that you created to survive, to rule, to endure when no one else could. Do you think I didn’t love him too? That I didn’t see the fire in his eyes, the strength that mirrored your own?”

Nauthizia faltered, her fists unclenching slightly as her breathing slowed. “You’re a fool, Constantine,” she said quietly, her voice trembling. “You think this is love? This madness you’ve tethered yourself to? You’re as broken as I am.”

Constantine stepped closer, his spectral hand brushing her cheek once more. This time, she didn’t flinch. “Perhaps I am,” he admitted. “But I’ve spent death chasing what I couldn’t hold in life. I loved you, Nauthizia. And I love Nauthiz. You don’t have to choose one over the other.”

Nauthizia turned sharply, her back to him as she gripped the edge of the table. Her voice was quieter now, but no less sharp. “And what of our son? What of Vlad? You stand here, pleading with me, while he is still lost.”

Constantine’s expression darkened. “I am bound by death’s rules as much as you are bound by life’s burdens. But I stayed—I stayed—because I knew you would fight for him. And when the time comes, I will fight beside you.”

Nauthizia’s shoulders trembled, her fury and grief warring within her. Slowly, she turned back to face him, her glowing eyes meeting his. “Then stop distracting me with your lust,” she said, her tone colder now, more controlled. “If you’re here, Constantine, be here for him. Not for me. Not for... us.”

Constantine nodded, his expression solemn. “For him,” he said quietly. But as he stepped back, his gaze lingered on her, filled with an unspoken longing that neither of them could deny.

Nauthizia sank into the chair by the fire, her hands trembling as she pressed them to her face. Constantine lingered in the shadows, his form faint and fading, but his presence still tangible.

And then he was gone, leaving Nauthizia alone with the crackling fire and the weight of what had been said—and what had not.